Prisoner of Yesterday
by t dot chick
Summary: Klaus's POV. When your older sister has gone away, your true love has left you alone, and there is no one to console you, a memory to cling to just might be your savior.
1. Chapter One

A raindrop glistened on her cheek. Or a tear, I wasn't really sure. It is hard to tell on such evenings whether she is crying or simply standing in the rain, thinking and wishing. The stars twinkled, their reflections in her eyes. I could tell that she was not crying, for her eyes never sparkled like that when she was. Still I knew that she was slowly slipping away, the cold look on her face unfaltering. And there was no way for me to console her, for I was merely her younger brother.

She thought that I didn't understand, but I did. I knew perfectly well how it felt to long for someone, even though you know that you shouldn't. Only Violet was never betrayed in the way that I was. And everyday I tried to tell her that she was lucky in this sense, but it never quite reached her. "You have never lost your real love," she would say. "You have never watched your beloved be dragged away in chains, begging for you to rescue him." Maybe it was true. But I still swear that I could have helped her if she'd only let me.

Each day I feel more at fault what happened. I didn't push her to do what she did. I only told her to chase the dream that was dearest to her heart; never in those days did I imagine that she would wind up where she is today, lying in a white room somewhere, waiting for someone to save her. You'd better believe that I'd have gotten to her long ago if it weren't for the circumstances. Sunny says that it doesn't matter, that we simply have to go find her. She doesn't understand that if we go now, we may never return. Every moment that I breathe, and some when I don't, the guilt nags at me. I hear whispers, desperate cries begging for a savior. The truth is, before we can save our sister, someone must save us.

She ran away, looking for him, but he was long gone. She came back and couldn't find us, and by the time we freed ourselves to send her the message we needed to convey, she'd vanished. Sunny may have forgotten, but I haven't. She knows what's happened, but her memories of the time are foggy. Violet and I always wished that Sunny could have known our parents before the fire. Now, she barely even knows her sister. In some ways, Sunny is even more desperate to find her than I am, simply because she wants to know her, wants to know the sister whom she barely remembers. I see her gazing at Violet's picture every night.

Five years ago Violet left, and still there have been no words from her. We know she is lying there, peacefully, and as much as I don't want to disturb her peace, I know that somewhere inside of her, our storm is still raging, the stinging flames of our lives still burning. If we could only go there and wake her up, maybe I could extininguish those flames with the news that I meant to deliver so many years ago...

Isadora doesn't know. Duncan doesn't know. They know not what's happened to their brother, but Sunny and I do. We cannot reach the Quagmires, or our sister, or any of the others we have cared about. Even more hurt arises from keeping these secrets, from bleeding in secret and concealing these scars. I long to show her the blood, show Isadora that still I bleed for her everyday, that I love her and pray for her and wish to touch her face once more. I am forced to hide these thoughts, and it kills me so. Each second that we both pray for each other, I die a little more. And now, it is I who cannot be comforted, for there is no one to hug my shoulders and tell me that she will return someday. All chances of a real future depend on me and Sunny running away and fleeing this land, just the way Violet did five years ago. Sunny will go willingly, but I just don't know if I can leave. Thid place holds so many memories, and sometimes when Sunny is sound asleep, I crawl over to the windowsill and watch the spot where I promised to love that girl forever.

All of the women close to my heart have suffered so, but I cannot keep myself from dwelling on those blissful memories of nights so starry and lips so soft.


	2. Chapter Two

"Will you tell anyone?" asked Isadora as quietly as possible. She spoke as if she was nervous, but I could tell by the curious glint in her eyes and the glowing of her face that she was just as excited as I.

I tried so hard to hide how eager I was, but my desires were wearing me down. "I promise," I whispered to her. "I won't tell a soul."

She breathed in slowly. "Okay," she finally replied, reaching for my hand. "I'll go."

A grin spread across my face as I grabbed her soft hand and began to run. I pulled her across the field, glistening with December frost. I could feel her pulse beating against mine, I could hear her breathing, and I was happier than I had been in years. As we neared the grand willow tree, I knew that this was it, the moment I had been waiting so long for, and I began to feel a little choked up. I gulped and held back the joyful tears that threatened to pour.

Finally we reached the tree. I led her underneath its branches to a spot completely concealed by icy vines. It truly was a breathtaking sight, those frosty boughs at nighttime. Sneaking out for this was worth it. Violet wouldn't worry, she would know that I was safe. She always seemed to know if I was alright.

"Wow," Isadora breathed, gazing up at the wonderland surrounding us. "It's so beautiful. Positively breathtaking."

"I'm glad you agree," I replied, squeezing her hand gently.

"A thousand couplets couldn't describe the beauty of this place," she went on. "I..." she stopped and looked at me. "Klaus, you wanted to talk, correct?"

"Oh, yes," I said, my nervousness returning. "I wanted to talk to you about something. But truthfully, right now I can't even remember what it was. You're just too damn distracting."

She blushed, the rosiness in her cheeks made her even more appealing. "You're pretty distracting yourself, Klaus," she said quietly, and I could hear her voice quivering. As a breeze blew her hair away from her face, the gleaming in her eyes was revealed. She was glowing, she was completely glowing, and I could barely stay off of her any longer.

"Isadora..." I whimpered, stroking her face. "You're so perfect..."

We stared into each others eyes, and it was intense. Our passion was firey, and I knew then that she was hoping for the same thing I was. But she looked away and said, "Klaus, you must tell me what you wanted to speak about."

I let go of her hand and looked at the ice crystals all around us. "Do you see how beautiful the ice is?" I almost whispered. "The extent of your beauty is even more infinite. And I love you Isadora, I love you. I love you and I will never be able to stop."

"Oh my goodness Klaus," she cried, "I love you so! I love you more surely than I believe in anything, for you are the only thing in my life that truly makes sense, you're the embodyment of perfection and each day I only love you more."

I was awestruck. How could she love me just as I loved her? This was not normal, this wasn't human, this feeling. The way I felt wasn't healthy, it was obsession, passion, love, all molded into a heartbreaking and intriguing picture of a girl. And now, she loved me. I saw her standing there in the cold and simply coldn't remain distant for another moment. I pulled her close to me and kissed her passionately, tasting the sweetness of her lips, savoring every moment.

Her hands were in my hair, on my back, her love evident in the way she caressed me. I touched her face, her shoulders, felt the rising of her chest as she breathed heavily. We kissed for what felt like an eternity, basked in the bliss of a shared love. I nedded her more than anything else, and now here she was, kissing me beneath the wintry branches of the old willow tree...

She fell to the ground abruptly, and I stood dazedfor a moment before realizing that she had pulled me down, as well. We sat on the ground and kissed ridiculously, it was heaven. All of our struggles melted away in the heat of those kisses, the bot of us panting and our bodies growing hot. After many moments more we collapsed, both breathless and in complete ecstasy.

"Oh God I love you," I said. "I love you I love you I love you I love you. I LOVE YOU!" I screamed.

Isadora giggled, turned over, and whispered into my ear, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

Now see if our lives could have stayed this perfect forever, I would be the luckiest man alive. I would have the most beautiful woman on the planet in my arms, and every day I could tell her how much I love her. But this is no perfect life. Now I have to fight for her, fight just to get a glimpse at that angelic face, to bring her back to me and tell her what I've not said in so many years. We would rescue Violet together, and then we would travel home and live together for the rest of our lives. But today, I cannot make this happen. All I do is live this night in my head, over and over again, praying that one day, I'll open my eyes and see the same face I smothered with kisses in my fondest memories. I can pray, but I cannot do a thing. Not yet.


	3. Chapter Three

I had nothing to write about. Nothing at all. And yet there was so much going on in my mind, so much I had to think about. Somehow, between my head and the paper, all was lost. The magic, the brilliance and profundity of it all, disintegrated on its way to the tattered old notebook. All I'd succeeded in writing were a few pathetic sentences about Isadora. _I wish that Isadora would return. I need Isadora to return. Isadora is perfect. Isadora is beautiful. I love Isadora. _Real brilliant.

It seems rather odd that I can find so much comfort in books, and yet not be much of a writer at all. I'd never been particularly skilled. That was Isadora. Her poetry was perfectly amazing. And Duncan's essays and articles were so powerful and thought-provoking that I could have read and re-read them for hours. But I, for one, had never written anything very inspiring. The words never flowed properly. The paragraphs didn't sound quite right. Trying to put down my thoughts, all I could come up with sounded like trash. Except for that name. _Isadora. _It was the perfect word, just rolled off my tongue. Each _I _was like the beginning of a long and beautiful story, the _o _an endless ring of light her face emitted. I tingled as I scrawled out each _a; _the _s _made me shiver. Over and over, I wrote down her name, till that was what filled the page. _Isadora. Isadora. Isadora. Isadora. Isadora. Isadora. _That page was the most beautiful thing my eyes had come across in a long time.

A creaking behind me informed me of Sunny's entrance. Quietly, she tiptoed towards me and peeked over my shoulder. For a moment she stayed there, reading, whilst I continued to write her name. _Isadora. Isadora. Isadora._

"Klaus" she said desperately, concern and agitation clashing in her head. "This is too much, Klaus, it's gone too far. We have to go, we have to go find Violet."

"Sunny, you need to listen to me." I said it as gently and calmly as possible. "We can't go looking for Violet until we know that it's safe to leave, and until we hear from V.F.D., we won't know."

"But it's been months Klaus" she exclaimed. "They're not going to contact us! They're all in hiding. They don't have time to think about us"

I took a deep breath so as not to blow up. "Look, Sunny, you'll just have to be patient, okay? V.F.D. _is _going to contact us, and when they do, then we will go get Violet back. Until then, we have to just be patient."

Sunny sighed deeply. "If we get Violet, we'll find the Quagmires too. I know you miss Isadora, Klaus, and the only way you can get her back is if we find Violet, so why wait for a call that won't ever come"

"_Shut up!_" I yelled, finally losing it. "We're just not leaving now. We're just not"

Angry, she slapped my face and stormed out of the room.

I sat there for awhile, stunned. Then, the impact of it suddenly hit me in full force. Wincing at the pain in my cheek, I clutched my face and leaned against the green desk, trying hard not to cry. I couldn't keep it up; moments later I was sobbing, silently, but the tears still poured. I couldn't get up, couldn't rise from my chair. I couldn't lift the pen I'd dropped, couldn't push my hair out of my face. Without a sound, the entire atmosphere of the room changed completely. Colors swirled around me as I tried to fight all of the demons flying at me in my dreams. Reality and imagination were colliding with each other, crashing into a strange and beautiful world where I wanted only to sit for awhile, and leave. And what saved me from my spiraling dream but a single word on my stationery, written in black ink that dripped as I could not put down the quill, recalling her every movement, every habit.

_Isadora. Isadora. Isadora._


End file.
